


Tu Veux Coucher Avec Moi Ce Soir?

by lucycamui



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Case 2: Singapore Skies, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Laurent stuffs the bean, M/M, Romance, Spoilers up to episode eight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: While in Singapore, Laurent offers to help Makoto shed the burden that is his virginity. A mental crisis ensues.
Relationships: Laurent Thierry/Makoto Edamura, Makoto Edamura/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 74
Kudos: 1061
Collections: i think that kind of life is what happiness is





	Tu Veux Coucher Avec Moi Ce Soir?

“Still think it’s a shame you didn’t go for the honeytrap option,” Laurent drawled, swirling the last few sips of wine around his glass.

Everyone else had drifted off after dinner, leaving Makoto alone with Laurent. He had been trying to review the script for the morning, after they’d passed along some “misinformed” news about the mechanic’s house going up in flames. However, that was a difficult feat to accomplish when every few minutes Laurent kept trying to get his attention.

“What?!” Makoto snapped up from his notes, casting Laurent an incredulous expression. “You’re joking…”

“Would you have rejected a woman like Cynthia?” Laurent asked, his lips quirked up at the corners.

“No way,” Makoto breathed out. He had a hard time believing anyone could, especially when she was dolled up to the nines and laying her charms on thick. Even the age thing seemed like a weak excuse. “I don’t get it.”

“Could it be that he’s not into women?” Laurent mused, running a finger over the rim of his wine glass.

To that, Makoto did not have an answer. He hadn’t considered that. There were other options that were just as logical, but he guessed that could be a possibility. “I don’t think I’m the right person to test that theory…”

“Surely you’ve learned something in the last few years?” Laurent chuckled and winked. “I, for one, would be delighted to see some Edamame-style seduction techniques.”

Makoto tensed, his hair standing on end in imitation of porcupine spikes, as a whole manner of nightmare scenarios raced through his brain. He had no seduction techniques. What was he supposed to do? Bat his lashes and flash his thighs through a dress slit? How did someone seduce a prince? _Oh, Your Highness, bowing isn’t the only thing I can do on my knees~_ No. No way. Somehow, he didn’t think that taking a page out of Laurent’s book and suggestively rubbing a gear stick would do the trick either.

“You’re not actually a virgin,” Laurent said, leaning forward in his seat. “...Right?”

Makoto could practically feel the flames coming off his ears. Why was that a fixation for everyone, why?! It didn’t matter. Not like it impacted his work in any way. “I’m not!”

Laurent arched a blonde eyebrow. “The girls are highly convinced that you are. Why might that be?”

The girls enjoyed tormenting him, that’s why. As did Laurent. Blood was rushing to Makoto’s face, heating up his cheeks. “I’ve—I’ve done… things!”

Amusement looked way too much like smugness when it was on Laurent’s stupidly handsome face, and Makoto didn’t like it. “Things? Care to elaborate, my dear Edamame?”

This was not the conversation Makoto wanted to be having, and not with Laurent of all people. The way it was going, Makoto would end up foolishly challenging him to a seduction-off, only to find out that Laurent had paid off a few sex workers to momentarily boost Makoto’s ego before completely destroying it. He quietly murmured a response and when Laurent cupped his hand against his ear, Makoto cleared his throat and shouted, “I’ve had a handjob, okay?!”

Laurent’s laughter was grating. “Doesn’t count if it’s from yourself, sweetie.”

Groaning in defeat, Makoto buried his face into his hands. “Please leave me alone.” That way he could wallow in his shame without an audience.

“You’re that cute, you’ve been to prison twice, and you’re still a virgin,” Laurent mused, setting down his empty wine glass and rising from his chair. “Sounds like you aren’t trying very hard.”

“If you’re going to point me to some service, no thank you,” Makoto muttered. “I’d rather just wait…”

Laurent’s footsteps were light as he crossed the room to lift Makoto’s face out of his hands. The smile gracing his lips was crooked. “How about with me, then?”

Makoto blinked and forced himself to close his jaw once he realized that his mouth had fallen open. He didn’t want it to look like an invitation. “Huh?!”

“I’d be very willing to help you shed the utter burden that is your virginity.”

He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be serious. Except it was Laurent. Which meant that he was probably very serious. “With you?!” Makoto didn’t like how high his voice came out, nor how breathless. “With… with… with you?!”

“You’re the one who keeps commenting on handsome men, Edamame. What am I supposed to think?”

Had he? Maybe once. No, twice. It could be that he was forgetting more. Singapore seemed to be flooded with attractive men—no, no, no. He was not going to let Laurent swindle him into this. Laurent’s hand was on his face, stroking up his jawline and making his skin tingle and his toes twitch and—Makoto leapt away, throwing his notebook onto the couch before fleeing the room.

No. No way. The thought was not even permitted to enter his mind. He was not going to have sex with Laurent. He could feel his skin burning under his shirt collar at the mere idea, his hand shaking as he jammed the elevator buttons repeatedly. Nope. He wasn’t stupid. There had to be a catch, some angle Laurent was playing at, some end goal that couldn’t possibly just be Makoto’s dick.

He needed to cool off and clear his head, get Laurent and his dumb French ideas out of his mind. The pool would have been a good idea, if it weren’t being dominated by the princes and their harem. A stroll outside would only fuzz up his thoughts more, too hot and humid for rational thinking.

Not that Makoto’s solution ended up being a smarter one, what with him slamming down thirty-dollar cocktails on the fifty-seventh floor. The fact that the cocktails were named things like “Bound & Gagged” and “Come on, Get Lucky” and “Sloppy Kisses” really wasn’t helping, though. That second one was a fruity haven of rum and tropical punch, and went down way too smoothly.

By the third glass, all rationale was gone and Makoto’s mind had wandered to the slivers of Laurent’s skin he had seen under those dumb Hawaiian shirts. He’d also seen how good Laurent looked in his underground casino manager getup. The slicked-back hair really worked on him. Made him look respectable rather than sleazy. Maybe Makoto simply needed to admit to himself that Laurent, with all his tricks and his charms, would probably make for a good firs—

No. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how fucking Laurent might actually wipe that self-assured grin off his face for once… No. No, no, no, no. Bad idea. Really bad idea. The worst idea possible. Well, trying to cheat a couple of princes out of millions of dollars was probably the worst idea. Next to that, screwing Laurent might not be that bad.

Ughh, he needed to stop drinking before he went from buzzed and senseless to drunk and being fucked senseless. Huh… Didn’t sound that bad when he thought about it that way. How would it work, anyway? He’d never considered the mechanics of sleeping with a man. He had a vague idea. With the overgrown blonde hair and that nice butt, from the back Laurent would present a nice enough image that would match up perfectly with some of the porn—

“Stop!” Makoto commanded, slapping his own cheeks to try and drive that dangerous train of thought from his mind. He was falling right into Laurent’s trap. This is what he did. This is how he got his way and tricked Makoto into going along with his schemes. First in LA, now here with the air races, and Makoto was not going to let Laurent slither his way into his pants!

Makoto tossed a bill too many onto the bar counter and slunk off, balling his fists in his hair as his mind fought with itself. Why was he even considering this? He didn’t want to get laid that badly! And not by Laurent. Even if he was weirdly good-looking and full of seedy charm and would definitely carry the same skill in bed as he seemed to have in everything else.

Rounding a corner, Makoto froze when he caught sight of Cynthia and Abbie huddled together against the hallway wall, partially hidden by a decorative fern. They were talking in hushed voices, the grave and exhausted expression on Abbie’s face the same one she had been wearing over the past several days. At least she seemed to be open to Cynthia’s attempts at comfort, leaning her face into Cynthia’s hand when her cheek was caressed and chin lifted. The next moment happened faster than Makoto could blink—Abbie seized hold of Cynthia’s hands and jammed up to crash their lips together.

Makoto clasped his hands over his mouth to silence the sharp gasp that tumbled from his mouth, ducking back around the corner in case they looked his way. Jesus fuck! What?! Was everyone else just getting laid all the time like it wasn’t a big deal?! He’d even seen Kudou and Si-Won flirting earlier, which he did not want to think about. Holy hell. What. What. What… Damn.

“Fine!” Makoto yelled, throwing open the doors to their suite after getting through the frustration of taking two different wrong elevators while trying to find his way back. “Fine, I’ll—do me!”

…Not the way he intended for that to come out. Judging by the highly amused smirk on Laurent’s face, however, he seemed to approve.

“I’ll be honest, Edamame. I expected it to be at least a day before you changed your mind.”

Bastard. “Never mind!”

He didn’t make it out into the hall, Laurent darting over and grabbing his wrist. “Not so fast, my darling bean. I believe you were asking me to—ahh, how did you put it? Do you?”

Makoto was going to kill him. Suffocate him with a pillow. They didn’t really need him for their plan to work out, did they? Kudou could easily act as the casino manager. Laurent was just there as support. No one would care if he were to suddenly go missing.

As Makoto continued plotting how to turn his fraud charges into murder charges, Laurent tugged him away from the door and toward the bedroom they’d been sharing.

“Wait, hold on,” Makoto protested lightly, doubt creeping up through his skin. “Can you give me a second to think?”

“Of course,” Laurent replied, smiling over his shoulder. “But do you want to think in here for the girls to walk in on? Because if that’s what you’re into, I’m not opposed, but it seems a bit adventurous for a first round.”

Right, Laurent had a point. If Makoto decided to go through with it and flopped himself into Laurent’s lap as a result, having Cynthia and Abbie walk in on that would destroy any shred of confidence he would have mustered up. “Okay, yeah.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Makoto was swept away from the living area and into the bedroom, Laurent deftly shutting the door behind them. Oh no. Oh god. What had he agreed to? He should have pounded down a few more of those “Sloppy Kisses” so that he could have just gone for it without having to think about it. Because it was the thinking about it that was causing all his second-guessing.

For a moment, Makoto thought he had gotten lucky with a chance to shake himself out of his building panic as Laurent left his side. That, however, turned out not to be the case. Laurent had produced condoms and a bottle of lubricant from his very-well organized suitcase and tossed them onto the bed beside Makoto.

Makoto yelped, leaping away from them as if they were toxic.

“They won’t bite you,” Laurent laughed.

How was he so damn casual about this? That smirk seemed to have become a permanent fixture on his stupidly attractive face.

“Hold on, hold on,” Makoto said, sliding back toward the center of the bed to put distance between himself and Laurent when Laurent came to sit on the edge of it. “Isn’t the first time supposed to be... special? And… I don’t know, but—significant, somehow?!”

“I am not forcing you,” Laurent stated flatly, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m offering. All you have to say is no and I won’t bring it up again. You’re the one who can’t make up your mind.”

“Well, it’s kind of a big decision!”

“Look at it this way, my little soybean,” Laurent said, patting Makoto’s thigh. “Say you find the person of your dreams and you date for a while, and that wonderful first night comes along… will you be nervous?”

Nervous? He’d be terrified. “Yeah. Probably. A bit.” A lot.

“Of course. And who could blame you for it? It’s a lot of pressure to be under. It’d be a hell of a time to screw things up too, don’t you think?” Laurent’s smirk had faded into a softer smile, but Makoto was not sure he could trust it. “I’m not saying it’ll go wrong. And even if it does, if you have the right partner, it might turn out more enjoyable than if it goes completely right but… If you were the type who wanted to guarantee the perfect first night with that special someone, it may be of value to shed yourself of that anxiety beforehand. And get some practice in.” He threw in a wink at the end, chuckling when Makoto went quiet in consideration.

Laurent stood back up and wandered across the room, his pace and posture as relaxed as always. “As for wanting significant…” He pushed open the window curtains, revealing a glittering view of the city at night as seen from the fiftieth floor. “How’s that?”

Makoto gritted his teeth and sighed through them. Laurent was right. He was cocky and a con, but he was hot and he was right. Fuck it. Why the hell not? They were in a world-class suite with a safe stacked with cash, flying fast planes and cheating royalty. Might as well get laid in the process. By a blonde foreigner, nonetheless. He would be living the Japanese dream.

Peeling his shirt off over his head, Makoto cast it to the floor and then stripped off his pants as well, before any doubts could come wiggling back. Laurent, judging by the grin that spread across his face, was delighted. Makoto barely had time to process it though, because in the next instant he was being pushed onto the mattress, Laurent looming over him.

Oh. Oh, Laurent had been close to him before but now he was _close_. Had he always had blonde eyelashes? Probably. Most likely. Definitely. Wow. Weird.

“So tell me, Edamame-chan.” Laurent was practically purring as he touched his fingers to Makoto’s abdomen and walked them up the centerline of his chest. “How would you prefer it?”

“Umm…” Makoto was not sure what he meant. “Good?”

That was the wrong answer. He could tell it was the wrong answer, because Laurent was visibly biting the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from cracking up. “I meant, would you like to pitch or to catch?”

Now they were talking about baseball? He hesitated to answer, though it would soon appear that he waited too long as Laurent had started snickering.

The sharp defense that had been on the tip of his tongue faltered and got lost when Laurent leaned in, his lips skimming the shell of Makoto’s ear. The warm breath tickling his skin made Makoto’s nerves go haywire. “Would you like to fuck me, or would you prefer to be fucked? Because I can go either way.”

Suddenly Makoto’s mouth was very dry. He should have had some water to chase down those cocktails. Yeah. Right. That was a choice in this type of situation, wasn’t it? He had no idea. He had no idea what he was doing either way. But did he want to give Laurent the dignity of doing that to him, for his first time?

“I w-wanna…” Makoto cleared his throat, but failed to rid the uncertain quiver from his voice. “I wanna be the—t-the one doing… the… doing.”

“Sure thing, _mon chéri,”_ Laurent replied, his mouth meeting the side of Makoto’s neck repeatedly. Makoto did not want to admit it, but oh, was that pleasant. “Would you like me to guide you?”

“Yes, please,” Makoto muttered then winced, grateful that Laurent’s response was only a chuckle and not relentless teasing. His hands were taken and brought forward, Laurent laying them over the top button of his shirt. That much Makoto could understand, and he hastily undid the whole line of them.

After the shirt was off, pants quickly followed, with both of them left only in their underwear and Makoto left at a loss. Should he take them off? Should he wait for Laurent to take them off? Should he ask permission or just jam his hands down there? Well, maybe not jam. That might be a dangerous action near such sensitive parts. Oh god, was he going to suck a cock? Not that he was opposed to the concept. He’d seen enough adult videos to know how that was supposed to work, but there had to be technique that went with it and didn’t involve camera-aimed kitten licks that probably did very little for the receiver in actuality.

“So, do we, uhhh… kiss or…” It felt like a stupid question. It was a stupid question, Makoto knew it was a stupid question. Rather than ask, he should have gone for it. His heart was pounding a bruise into the inside of his ribcage considering it, so he squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head up toward Laurent, puckering his lips by a fraction. Not too much. He didn’t want to look desperate. Or ridiculous.

Something did meet his lips but it definitely was not a mouth, and Makoto shot his eyes open to see that Laurent—rather than kissing him—had pressed two fingers over his mouth in rejection. “Not like that,” Laurent dismissed with amusement, smiling down at Makoto.

There went all his scraps of self-assurance, chucked out the fifty-story window.

“I think,” Laurent’s smooth, low voice cut through Makoto’s building mental anxiety, “you need to stop thinking so much. That grimace is going to give you wrinkles, and at such a young age.”

That’d be nice, if only he could turn his brain off that easily. “Do you have a suggestion, then?!”

“Of course.”

That was all the warning Makoto received before Laurent stripped him of his boxers, leaving him as naked as the day he was born and far more aware of it.

“Oh, you’re cute everywhere, aren’t you?” Laurent purred, and yet Makoto had no chance to flail or even consider covering himself, because Laurent’s fingers had slipped down his stomach to wrap around his cock.

Time stood still and the air in Makoto’s lungs seized up, the nerves in his thighs firing off on overdrive. The touch was electric, and quickly turned into a full-on lightning strike when Laurent dropped down and sucked Makoto into his mouth.

Wow.

Okay.

Yeah.

He got it.

Holy fucking shit.

Makoto had never been harder faster, and as soon as Laurent hollowed his cheeks, his tongue sweeping the underside of Makoto’s cock, the only thing he could do was grab fistfuls of blonde hair and bedsheets while trying to remind himself that bucking up without warning would probably be considered rude. He was going to come embarrassingly quickly, but that had to be expected, right?

Although with Laurent, nothing could be that simple. The moment Makoto’s thighs began to quiver and his toes began to curl, Laurent pulled off him, his mouth wet and set in a lop-sided smirk. He grabbed the lubricant at the foot of the bed and transferred it to Makoto’s hands as he changed positions, presenting Makoto with his ass.

It wasn’t round like his own, more angular and firm, but damn was it a nice ass that suddenly flooded Makoto’s mind with visions of himself sinking into it. Surely that would have broken Laurent’s unflappable exterior, even if it was only for a moment.

“Uhhh…” Makoto was breathless again, mainly because Laurent was stroking his cock and both the sight of it and the response it caused were extremely distracting. “What do I… do?”

“Lube. Fingers. Stretch,” Laurent instructed in rhythm, his tone laden with the presumption that Makoto would know what he meant.

Makoto kind of knew what he meant. Pour the lubricant onto his fingers and stretch—stretch what?

“Stretch what?” Makoto asked, because asking was embarrassing but less so than if he accidentally started doing the wrong type of wrist exercises.

Laurent was biting the insides of his cheeks again, but it did nothing to hide his grin. He took one of Makoto’s hands and slapped it onto one of his buttocks, leading Makoto’s fingers to the crease and the entrance found there. “You need to do a bit more work with men than you need with women. Start one at a time.”

One at a time. Right. It made sense. He could do this. Couldn’t be more difficult than cooking a full batch of fucking _drugs_.

Makoto’s hands trembled as he squeezed cool lubricant onto his fingers, his gaze flickering between the bottle and Laurent’s ass. One at a time. Which finger did he start with? Pinkie would be laughable, especially since it wouldn’t be Laurent’s first time. Laurent’s experience in this area, while possibly allowing him to be forgiving of Makoto’s potential mistakes, would also mean he’d know each and every thing that Makoto did wrong.

What if he did it all wrong? What if he did it so wrong that Laurent wouldn’t like it? Laurent had mentioned the possibility of a first-time gone wrong. If Makoto screwed this up, then what? He’d never have sex again, out of sheer terror. Even if Laurent took pity on him and stretched himself out, Makoto could still fuck up fucking him. No. No way. Not gonna happen.

“Laurent, wait, I—”

“Changed your mind? We can stop—just say the word.”

“Yes,” Makoto breathed out with relief. “Wait, no. Not like, completely… Will you, uhhh, will you do it instead?”

“The stretching? It’s not that difficult. You’re smart, you can figure it out. Just don’t be aggressive.”

“No,” Makoto corrected, shaking his head. “Will you... fuck me?”

Laurent’s smile was breathtaking, probably a result of the fact that most of Makoto’s blood had pooled in his dick rather than his brain. “Happily, my bean.”

Makoto did not know what to think of this new nickname, but luckily the internal debate over it was soon the last thing on his mind. Laurent was neither gentle nor rough when he grabbed Makoto’s hips and yanked him down the bed, pushing Makoto’s legs open. Makoto would have protested the manhandling, if he didn’t find it shamefully hot. “Laurent…”

“You should roll over,” Laurent mused with a hum, tapping one of Makoto’s hips. “Get on your knees.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be easier,” Laurent answered, plucking up the lubricant bottle that Makoto had dropped and liberally coating his fingers. “Don’t you trust me?”

Frankly, the answer was no. Perhaps he should reconsider, since all of Laurent’s plots had gone off without much of a hitch thus far. The misfortunes that had befallen them in LA were of Makoto’s own doing. That and Makoto was the one who had kept taking Laurent up on his offers.

Sucking in a deep breath and exhaling with a conflicted puff, Makoto flipped himself over onto his stomach. The quick swipe across his ass that followed, which made him yelp in time with the echo of the light smack, was less painful and more surprising. Laurent’s deep laughter rumbled in his ears.

“Sorry, my bean. I couldn’t help it. If you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again.”

“S’fine,” Makoto muttered, grabbing a pillow and pulling it into himself so that he would be able to muffle any more undignified noises. Laurent’s hands were raising his hips, the pads of his fingers calloused while the rest of his skin was soft. It was a contrast that had Makoto shivering, even though he could not be sure why.

“Have you played with yourself before?” Laurent asked, spreading apart Makoto’s ass cheeks and dancing his fingers down between them.

“Not with…” Makoto tightened his grip on the pillow in anticipation. “Not down there in… that area.”

“Well, then this might feel a little strange at first,” Laurent said, his lubricant-slicked fingers tracing circles around Makoto’s entrance. “Hang in there, like a good bean.”

If that was meant to be a warning, Makoto did not read it as one and was thus surprised when he felt something slip inside him. He bit the corner of the pillow to quiet himself, squeezing his eyes shut. It didn’t hurt, but it was _weird_. Like—no, he did not want to describe it. Laurent was gentle, though, his movements slow yet purposeful. As he continued, pushing in a second finger once Makoto loosened to the first, Makoto failed to see how this was meant to be enjoyable.

“This is weird,” he muttered, peeking over his shoulder at Laurent. The fingers were a constant pressure inside him, moving in and out in a manner that mimicked the upcoming act and left Makoto full of doubt. He wasn’t even hard anymore, his dick hanging sadly between his thighs unlike—holy fuck, was _that_ meant to go inside him?! Because he could now see a very prominent outline tenting the material of Laurent’s tight black underwear, the tip threatening to slip past the waistband in order to greet him hello. Guess it was true what they said about foreigners… “It’s weird, Laurent.”

“What did I say, my dear Edamame?” Laurent asked with a smirk, giving his ass another light smack.

“Hang in there,” Makoto repeated diligently. For how long though? He was under the impression that getting laid was a pleasurable experience. Sure as hell didn’t feel anywhere near as good as jerking it himself. Laurent’s mouth had been bliss; could they go back to that? “Okay, but what’s it even supposed to do? Because right now it feels like I’m getting violated at the doctor’s office and if we’re going to do that, at least you could put on a—”

Laurent rolled his eyes as Makoto rambled, cutting him off by dropping down and burying his face between Makoto’s ass cheeks.

Oh.

Why did that make such a difference?

Because it did.

A big one.

Laurent’s tongue had slipped inside along with his fingers and it was hot and wet, and his thumb was rubbing little circles over Makoto’s perineum, setting off odd tingling in his thighs and abdomen. That tongue was doing all sorts of wicked things, Makoto’s stomach tightening and shoulders tensing in response. That was… better. Much better. It was still disconcerting and foreign, but the discomfort that came with the unfamiliar was being washed away by the sweeping, plunging movements of Laurent’s tongue.

And then Laurent’s fingers spread and curled, and an indescribable rush flooded through Makoto, strong enough that his muscles convulsed and his mind dumped every bit of sanity out the window. “Ahhhhgnnnn, w-what was—oh my fucking _god.”_

“You can just call me Laurent.”

Makoto did not have the mental capacity to mock Laurent for the bad line, too preoccupied with whatever the fuck it was he had just done that had made his entire body feel like exploding in a rainbow of ecstasy. That. He wanted that. He could understand that. “That was… good.”

“Good?”

“Very good.”

“Like this?” Laurent repeated the action, with absolute intent.

That time, Makoto bit the pillow to quiet a moan as he unconsciously pushed back into Laurent’s hands. “Y-yes.” Just like that. He would appreciate an order to-go, please.

Laurent’s hum of response was a pleased one, even as he disappointed Makoto by pulling away. Makoto had no time to question it, however, as in the next moment he was being flipped over and placed in Laurent’s lap. He did not need to look back to know that Laurent had lost his underwear somewhere in the process, because he could feel the velvet of a hard dick against the small of his back.

“Are you ready, sweet bean?” Laurent purred, his hands snaking around to knead at Makoto’s ass. “Or was that enough for you?”

“Stop calling me bean,” Makoto muttered, even while a peculiar thrill ran through him as he rocked back against Laurent’s cock. Glancing around the bed, he spotted the condom wrappers and grabbed one of them, ripping it open. Rolling it onto Laurent blindly was a bit of a challenge, but he was afraid to look, lest he get scared off at the last second. Because at the present moment, he was very much looking forward to what was about to come.

“A virgin that knows how to put on a condom,” Laurent said, the corners of his lips quirked up. “Explain that one.”

“Shut up,” Edamame murmured, his hands behind his back and full of latex-covered French cock. “Just tell me what I’m supposed to do with this.”

“I believe you have a very good idea of what you’re supposed to do with that,” Laurent laughed, winking up at him. “You can put one hand on my chest, if you need to. Balance yourself. This position is good to start. This way, you can easily decide what’s too much or too little. Meanwhile, I can lean back, relax, and enjoy the view.”

Bastard. Scoundrel. Asshole. What was the one in French— _connard!_

Makoto narrowed his eyes into a glare. He did what he was told, splaying the fingers of his left hand over Laurent’s chest as he used his other hand to guide the blunt head of Laurent’s cock to his prepped hole. Come on, Edamame. Now or never. Deep breath and go.

He sank down slowly, his jaw going slack with that initial push. It was a lot. The stretch stung, the feeling of being overfilled already there from just the first inch. Makoto swore and stopped, his breathing shallow. Laurent’s hands gripped low on his waist, holding him firmly in place and rubbing little teasing circles over his hip bones. Makoto wanted to swipe that smug smirk off his face and did the only reasonable thing he could think of to achieve that end. He kissed Laurent.

It wasn’t a great kiss. Makoto had his lips pursed shut, his expression furrowed as he tried to take his mind off the uncomfortable width of the dick stretching out his rim. Jamming his face against Laurent’s lasted only until he heard a rumbling chuckle and Laurent ducked out of the kiss.

 _“Non, non, non._ Not like that, _mon chéri.”_ The French accent was even more pronounced when Laurent formed the words in his own language, letting them roll sweetly off his tongue. “Let me show you how the French kiss, hmm?”

Laurent set a hand on the side of Makoto’s face, delicately curling his fingers under the curve of his jaw. The caress was light, as was the stroke of Laurent’s thumb over his lower lip until it hooked inward to guide Makoto’s mouth open. The kiss he was then caught in was deep and heated from the start. Laurent tempted Makoto’s tongue into his mouth and nipped, sucking on his lip and making him squirm with a sensory overload when he dropped a hand to languidly stroke Makoto’s cock.

What had Laurent said about too much at once? Makoto’s hands slipped up, curling over Laurent’s shoulders to steady himself. He sighed into Laurent’s mouth and chased his tongue, trying to copy all the maddening little tricks Laurent was playing. The buzzing in his head was stronger than that caused by the dirty cocktails, and it only intensified when Laurent rocked his hips up.

A shaky mewl fell from Makoto’s lips and he shifted, spreading his legs wider as he sank down, taking in more and more of Laurent until he was fully seated inside of Makoto. It bordered on too much, stretching him wide around the thick base of Laurent’s cock. Makoto bit his lower lip, groaning as he tried to breathe through it. His mind was racing between the choice to pull off or wait, only for Laurent to add a third option by gently pushing him back. The discomfort was replaced by sparks, the embers that had been smouldering in Makoto’s abdomen igniting as Laurent’s cock hit that one spot that made his vision flash.

Makoto pitched his head back and arched his spine, rolling his hips to seek the same stimulation once again. There. Fuck, that was good. He ground on Laurent’s lap, mouth parted and exhaling soft sounds as he began to lift and sink in an uneven rhythm, trying to find the best angle and pace to drive more of those sparks through him.

Laurent’s hazel gaze was trained between them, watching Makoto fuck himself on his cock with far too much control for Makoto’s liking. “Didn’t you want to fuck me?” Makoto asked, throwing a smile down at Laurent, raising off him until only the tip of his cock was left inside.

The taunt both worked and backfired, as the sudden jolt of Laurent’s cock slamming back inside him had Makoto choking on air, his vision blurring. He fell forward, moaning without restraint as Laurent fucked up into him, each stroke sending ripples of ecstasy through his entire body.

Makoto came embarrassingly quickly, biting his bottom lip hard enough to split it as he tried to muffle his blissed-out moans. He panted into the crook of Laurent’s neck, muscles spasming as his body tightened around the cock inside him. Laurent was graciously still, his arms looped loosely around Makoto’s waist. Perhaps there was an element of selfishness to it, but Laurent was still hard and Makoto wanted more.

Rolling off Laurent and onto the mattress, Makoto let slip a pleading whine as he held his arms out in invitation. “Laurent…”

A hushed French swear tickled his ears and Laurent was on top of him the very next second, sliding his arms under Makoto as he captured his mouth in another deep kiss. A groan hitched in Makoto’s throat as Laurent drove into him, claiming him with a single brutal stroke. Each of Laurent’s thrusts built on the one before it, picking up pace until Makoto was mewling and overwhelmed, writhing on the thick cock pistoning inside of him.

He came a second time with Laurent’s fingers wrapped around his cock, crying through the pleasure of it. Laurent’s mouth left marks on his neck, his exhales hot and shallow against the shell of Makoto’s ear. He bit a bruise into Makoto’s skin as his hips stuttered and his rhythm failed, muttering words in French that resembled praise. Makoto did not expect the sweetness of the kiss his head was tilted into, but he accepted, winding his fingers into blonde hair as he sighed against Laurent’s lips.

As his heart rate calmed and his ragged breathing grew even, Makoto dropped his arms and let out a quiet “Wow.”

“Mmm, you’re welcome,” Laurent chuckled as he pulled away, separating them. “I will admit, you’re pretty wow yourself.”

Makoto walked his fingers down his stomach, skating his fingertips through the wet, warm cum coating his skin. Yeah, wow was a damn accurate way to describe the drone still humming through his body. “So, uhhh…” Makoto swallowed around the question, forcing himself to loosen his tongue. “What does this mean now?”

Laurent tied off the spent condom and dropped it into the trash, throwing a few used tissues on top to cover it. He cast Makoto a satisfied smile. “Doesn’t have to mean anything, my darling bean. We’re just having some fun.”

Right. That made sense. Makoto couldn’t really picture himself holding hands and going on art gallery dates with Laurent. Maybe if they stole a Rembrandt in the process.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Laurent said, stretching his arms up over his head. “You are welcome to join me, especially if you’re up for another round. Practice makes perfect, as you know.”

Makoto watched Laurent saunter into the adjoining bathroom, purposefully swaying his hips. As soon as he was out of sight, Makoto covered his face with his hands and groaned. He’d fucked up, hadn’t he? Fucked up by getting fucked. Oh, well. At least he wasn’t a virgin anymore. Might as well have fun with it.

Slipping off the bed, Makoto called out to Laurent as he crossed the room to go join him in the bathroom. “Laurent! Let me fuck you this time!”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr, [@lucycamui](https://lucycamui.tumblr.com/), or twitter, also [@lucycamui](https://twitter.com/lucycamui)


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